


October, November, December, January

by addict_writer



Series: Pre-Twilight to Post-Breaking Dawn Collection [4]
Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addict_writer/pseuds/addict_writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what the title says. The months that Stephenie let out. Bella's pain and a few of my ideas on what may have happened to amplify it. Fourth part in my Pre-Twilight to Post-Breaking Dawn collection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	October, November, December, January

**I don't own Twilight!**

**The passage in Italic is from the second book, New Moon.**

**BPOV**

_It will be as if I'd never existed._ The words kept ringing in my head.

Charlie had come in my room sometime later and got me in the bed. I turned my head and I could smell _him_ on the pillow, it was like a dream, the worst nightmare. A part of me told me to get up and take care of Charlie, but I couldn't find my legs. I couldn't feel any part of my body, except the agonizing pain in my chest. If someone would have taken my heart out and stomped on it, I'm sure I would have felt better. I would have felt something.

Later, because I didn't know what time it was, Charlie came again with food and water. I couldn't eat. I wouldn't eat, maybe the pain will go away. I just stayed on my bed watching the ceiling of my room or the window but not seeing them.

Later again, Charlie came in determined to get me out. He was carrying me somewhere, I couldn't bring myself to care where. Soon we were in the bathroom.

"Honey, you need to shower," he said gently. I think I nodded, although I don't remember moving my head. I got in the shower mechanically and stayed under the spray, letting it wash me without moving my hands. _I can do this. For Charlie, I'll wash, I'll cook, go to school, do the laundry-_ My thoughts were stopped abruptly, just as I had convinced myself to wash, the water turned ice cold and I stayed there petrified. Cold, ice cold, Edward. Oh how it hurt to think of him. I slide down and stayed there, with the cold water running on me, for an immensurable amount of time. I scrambled off the floor and washed with the cold water. I embraced the coldness.

When I got out, Charlie was waiting in my room, in the rocking chair. It brought a new wave of pain and anger.

"Get out of that chair!" I didn't recognize my voice, it was hoarse and angry. Charlie got up startled and came to me.

"I let food there, on the nightstand. Eat. If you feel fine, you have to go to school. It's been a week, now."

WOW. He left after he kissed the top of my head.

I ate and dressed mechanically, again. I put on some jeans and a blue shirt Alice had bought me. A new wave of pain hit me. Will it ever end? I knew the answer. It will never end. I held my torso as if it would fall apart from the pain.

I drove slowly to school and parked as far as possible from my usual parking spot.

I made it to English and made my way to my desk. I didn't look at the empty seat next to me. I didn't listen to Mr. Berty. I sat there, motionless. Before I realized it was lunch time. I sat at our usual table.

"Bella," Angela said.

I just shook my head.

"I'm here, if you need me," she said and put an arm around me. Pity? That's not what I need, I didn't have enough strength to tell her to leave me alone. The pain intensified when I walked in Biology. The whole class I sat there gripping the edge of the desk, trying to convince myself that I already missed a week and I shouldn't dash out of the classroom.

Home, I cooked some fish and left a note to Charlie in which I told him that I'm sleeping and I ate. I couldn't eat so I went to my room. I hugged the pillow to my chest and waited for sleep to come. It wouldn't. And when it did, it was brutal. Edward was there mocking me _"How could you think that I loved you? You, some human."_ And then he started laughing a sinister and deadly laugh. I woke up screaming and crying. Charlie was there and the next night and the one that followed and so on.

I went to school, I cooked diner for Charlie, sometimes I ate with him, I did the laundry and then I just lived, if that was what I was doing or tried to.

Billy called from time to time to ask about me, and Charlie's answers were the same.

When people asked me how I was, I answered "Fine". "Fine" was a safe answer, no one questions "fine". Jessica decided I was no longer interesting as a friend and wasn't talking to me anymore, _fine_ by me. I couldn't care less. Mike tried to keep being my friend, but gave up. At work I talked only if necessary. Angela was the only friend that stuck with me and Ben, poor him.

Soon, it started to snow, or soon for me. Time chased to exist. It was just me and the pain, the sleepless nights, the nightmares. Charlie gave up coming every time I screamed in my sleep and I was more than fine with it.

School was fine, English was brutal. We had to write an essay about the love between _Romeo and Juliet_. It took me an entire week to write it, every time I wrote I felt the pain ripping inside me. I couldn't even cry, I had no tears left.

In Biology, Mr. Banners tried to explain to us how vital blood is to our organism. He had no idea how vital it was for some people. The pain came from nowhere and I left the class gasping for air. Angela kept shooting me worried glances.

"Fine," I managed to say. I went home after that.

Snow hurt. I hated snow even more. It was cold, white and indifferent. I couldn't think who was also those same three things, if I would, the pain will be worse.

The pain was always there, my shadow, following me everywhere.

Charlie had had enough. He called Renee. It was one snowy morning when I woke up screaming, again. To see Renee's worried face in front of mine. I thought I was dreaming.

"Honey, I'm here," she said. softly "Everything will be ok. I'm here. We're going home."

_What is she talking about? I **am** home._

That's when I saw the bags, I jumped out of bed, and by some miracle didn't fall.

"No! I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE! I LIVE HERE, I LIKE IT HERE IN FORKS!" I was screaming, but I didn't care.

"Bella, I can't take care of you. Your mom can do it," Charlie said from the rocking chair. Haven't I told him not to sit there? The place was sacred. The pain came again fast and hard and it sent me to my knees.

"GET OUT OF THAT CHAIR!" I sobbed flying my arms around.

I took the clothes from the bag and started throwing them around the room. "YOU WON'T MAKE ME GO WITH YOU! I LOVE FORKS! I CAN'T LEAVE! Don't make me leave the only place that made me happy," I finished in a whisper.

"But honey, Charlie can't take of you anymore…you are being difficult," Renee told me.

"I'll be good, just don't take me away form here! Charlie, please!" I begged him.

They looked at each other and nodded. They got out and later, Renee came back to say good bye.

"I love you, Bella! You can come to live with me whenever you want."

"I love you, too, Mom. I want to live here," I persisted.

"Oh, I almost forgot, this is for you." I looked dubiously at the package and then at her. Presents brought bad memories.

"Your Christmas present." _Christmas_? Really?

"I…don't have anything…thank you."

"It's alright, I'll go. Bye, honey."

"Bye, Mom." I kissed her cheek and after she left I kept staring at the present.

What can happen if I open it? Nothing. So I opened it, it was a frame. I didn't feel anything, I should be happy. I wanted the pain now, where was it when I needed it?

Now, at least I knew we were in December. It didn't feel like Christmas or New Year. Those meant happiness and great times. Time with the ones you love…well there was Charlie, but he stayed out of my hair and I appreciated it. I baked for him some cookies, the least I could do.

"You're spending this night with me! It's New Year's night," he told me after a few days.

"Okay, Dad."

"I brought something for you, you'll like it," he said and then disappeared to the kitchen. I heard him muttering, "Argh…too cold."

What can be cold? I started to panic.

"Here you go! I know ice cream makes you girls feel better." _The gesture counts. Don't let it show how much it hurts you_ , I kept chanting in my head.

"Th-hank you, Char-rlie," I managed to say.

"No problem, sweetie," he told me.

The moment we were in the next year I fled out of the room and when the door of my room closed behind me, I fell on my knees and gave a strangled cry.

"Bella?" Charlie screamed.

"FINE!" I yelled back.

School started again and Mike took it upon himself to talk to me at work. He hadn't talked with me about anything but work.

"So, it's been an year," he said.

_Huh? What is he on about?_

"Since you came to Forks," he clarified. Oh, great, remind me of that! I hugged my torso as pain shoot through me and simply nodded.

He dropped it and I was glad he did.

_I yanked the old purse I rarely used off the nail it hung from, and shoved the door shut._

_Just then I heard a horn honking. I swiftly traded my wallet from my schoolbag into the purse. I was in a hurry, as if rushing would somehow make the night pass more quickly. I glanced at myself in the hall mirror before I opened the door, arranging my features are fully into a smile and trying to hold them there._

_"Thanks for coming with me tonight," I told Jess as I climbed into the passenger seat, trying to infuse my tone with gratitude. It had been a while since I'd really thought_

_about what I was saying to anyone besides Charlie. Jess was harder. I wasn't sure which were the right emotions to fake._

_"Sure. So, what brought this on?" Jess wondered as she drove down my street._

_"Brought what on?"_

_"Why did you suddenly decide . . . to go out?" It sounded like she changed her question halfway through._

_I shrugged. "Just needed a change."_

_I recognized the song on the radio then, and quickly reached for the dial. "Do you mind?" I asked._

_"No, go ahead."_

_I scanned through the stations until I found one that was harmless. I peeked at Jess's expression as the new music filled the car._

_Her eyes squinted. "Since when do you listen to rap?"_

_"I don't know," I said. "A while."_

_"You like this?" she asked doubtfully._

_"Sure."_

_It would be much too hard to interact with Jessica normally if I had to work to tune out the music, too. I nodded my head, hoping I was in time with the beat._

_"Okay. . . ." She stared out the windshield with wide eyes._

_"So what's up with you and Mike these days?" I asked quickly._

_"You see him more than I do."_

_The question hadn't started her talking like I'd hoped it would._

_"It's hard to talk at work," I mumbled, and then I tried again. "Have you been out with anyone lately?"_

_"Not really. I go out with Conner sometimes. I went out with Eric two weeks ago." She rolled her eyes, and I sensed a long story. I clutched at the opportunity._

_"Eric Yorkie? Who asked who?"_

_She groaned, getting more animated. "He did, of course! I couldn't think of a nice way to say no."_

_"Where did he take you?" I demanded, knowing she would interpret my eagerness as interest. "Tell me all about it."_

_She launched into her tale, and I settled into my seat, more comfortable now. I paid strict attention, murmuring in sympathy and gasping in horror as called for. When she was finished with her Eric story, she continued into a Conner comparison without any prodding._

_The movie was playing early, so Jess thought we should hit the twilight showing and eat later. I was happy to go along with whatever she wanted; after all, I was getting what I wanted—Charlie off my back._

_I kept Jess talking through the previews, so I could ignore them more easily. But I got nervous when the movie started. A young couple was walking along a beach, swinging_ _hands and discussing their mutual affection with gooey falseness. I resisted the urge to cover my ears and start humming. I had not bargained for a romance._

_"I thought we picked the zombie movie," I hissed to Jessica._

_"This is the zombie movie."_

_"Then why isn't anyone getting eaten?" I asked desperately._

_She looked at me with wide eyes that were almost alarmed. "I'm sure that part's coming," she whispered._

_"I'm getting popcorn. Do you want any?"_

_"No, thanks."_

_Someone shushed us from behind._

_I took my time at the concession counter, watching the clock and debating what percentage of a ninety-minute movie could be spent on romantic exposition. I decided_

_ten minutes was more than enough, but I paused just inside the theater doors to be sure. I could hear horrified screams blaring from the speakers, so I knew I'd waited long enough._

_"You missed everything," Jess murmured when I slid back into my seat. "Almost everyone is a zombie now."_

_"Long line." I offered her some popcorn. She took a handful._

_The rest of the movie was comprised of gruesome zombie attacks and endless screaming from the handful of people left alive, their numbers dwindling quickly. I would have thought there was nothing in that to disturb me. But I felt uneasy, and I wasn't sure wh) at first. It wasn't until almost the very end, as I watched a haggard zombie shambling after the last shrieking survivor, that I realized what the problem was. The scene kept cutting_ _between the horrified face of the heroine, and the dead, emotionless face of her pursuer, back and forth as it closed the distance. And I realized which one resembled me the most._

_I stood up._

_"Where are you going? There's, like, two minutes left," Jess hissed._

_"I need a drink," I muttered as I raced for the exit._

_I sat down on the bench outside the theater door and tried very hard not to think of the irony. But it was ironic, all things considered, that, in the end, I would wind up as a zombie. I hadn't seen that one coming._

_Not that I hadn't dreamed of becoming a mythical monster once—just never a grotesque, animated corpse. I shook my head to dislodge that train of thought, feeling panicky. I couldn't afford to think about what I'd once dreamed of._

_It was depressing to realize that I wasn't the heroine anymore, that my story was over._

_Jessica came out of the theater doors and hesitated, probably wondering where the best place was to search for me. When she saw me, she looked relieved, but only for a_ _moment. Then she looked irritated._

_"Was the movie too scary for you?" she wondered._

_"Yeah," I agreed. "I guess I'm just a coward."_

_"That's funny." She frowned. "I didn't think you were scared—I was screaming all the time, but I didn't hear you scream once. So I didn't know why you left."_

_I shrugged. "Just scared."_

_She relaxed a little. "That was the scariest movie I think I've ever seen. I'll bet we're going to have nightmares tonight."_

_"No doubt about that," I said, trying to keep my voice normal. It was inevitable that I would have nightmares, but they wouldn't be about zombies. Her eyes flashed to_ _my face and away. Maybe I hadn't succeeded with the normal voice._

_"Where do you want to eat?" Jess asked._

_"I don't care."_

_"Okay."_

_Jess started talking about the male lead in the movie as we walked. I nodded as she gushed over his hotness, unable to remember seeing a non-zombie man at all._

_I didn't watch where Jessica was leading me. I was only vaguely aware that it was dark and quieter now. It took me longer than it should have to realize why it was quiet._

_Jessica had stopped babbling. I looked at her apologetically, hoping I hadn't hurt her feelings._

_Jessica wasn't looking at me. Her face was tense; she stared straight ahead and walked fast. As I watched, her eyes darted quickly to the right, across the road, and back_ _again._

_I glanced around myself for the first time._

_We were on a short stretch at unlit sidewalk. The little shops lining the street were all locked up for the night, windows black. Half a block ahead, the streetlights started up again, and I could see, farther down, the bright golden arches of the McDonald's she was_ _heading for._

_Across the street there was one open business. The windows were covered from inside and there were neon signs, advertisements for different brands of beer, glowing in_ _front of them. The biggest sign, in brilliant green, was the name of the bar—One-Eyed Pete's. I wondered if there was some pirate theme not visible from outside. The metal_ _door was propped open; it was dimly lit inside, and the low murmur of many voices and the sound of ice clinking in glasses floated across the street. Lounging against the wall beside the door were four men._

_I glanced back at Jessica. Her eyes were fixed on the path ahead and she moved briskly. She didn't look frightened—just wary, trying to not attract attention to herself._

_I paused without thinking, looking back at the four men with a strong sense of deja vu. This was a different road, a different night, but the scene was so much the same. One of them was even short and dark. As I stopped and turned toward them, that one looked up in interest._

_I stared back at him, frozen on the sidewalk._

_"Bella?" Jess whispered. "What are you doing?"_

_I shook my head, not sure myself. "I think I know them . . . ," I muttered._

_What was I doing? I should be running from this memory as fast as I could, blocking the image of the four lounging men from my mind, protecting myself with the numbness I couldn't function without. Why was I stepping, dazed, into the street?_

_It seemed too coincidental that I should be in Port Angeles with Jessica, on a dark street even. My eyes focused on the short one, trying to match the features to my memory of the man who had threatened me that night almost a year ago. I wondered if there was any way I would recognize the man, if it was really him. That particular part of that particular evening was just a blur. My body remembered it better than my mind did; the tension in my legs as I tried to decide whether to run or to stand my ground, the dryness in my throat as I struggled to build a decent scream, the tight stretch of skin across my knuckles as I clenched my hands into fists, the chills on the back of my neck when the dark-haired man called me "sugar." . . ._

_There was an indefinite, implied kind of menace to these men that had nothing to do with that other night. It sprung from the fact that they were strangers, and it was dark here, and they outnumbered us—nothing more specific than that. But it was enough that Jessica's voice cracked in panic as she called after me._

_"Bella, come on!"_

_I ignored her, walking slowly forward without ever making the conscious decision to move my feet. I didn't understand why, but the nebulous threat the men presented_ _drew me toward them. It was a senseless impulse, but I hadn't felt any kind of impulse in so long. . . . I followed it._

_Something unfamiliar beat through my veins. Adrenaline, I realized, long absent from my system, drumming my pulse faster and fighting against the lack of sensation._

_It was strange—why the adrenaline when there was no fear? It was almost as if it were an echo of the last time I'd stood like this, on a dark street in Port Angeles with strangers._

_I saw no reason for fear. I couldn't imagine anything in the world that there was left to be afraid of, not physically at least. One of the few advantages of losing everything._

_I was halfway across the street when Jess caught up to me and grabbed my arm._

_"Bella! You can't go in a bar!" she hissed._

_"I'm not going in," I said absently, shaking her hand off. "I just want to see something…"_

_"Are you crazy?" she whispered. "Are you suicidal?"_

_That question caught my attention, and my eyes focused on her._

_"No, I'm not." My voice sounded defensive, but it was true. I wasn't suicidal. Even in the beginning, when death unquestionably would have been a relief, I didn't consider it. I owed too much to Charlie. I felt too responsible for Renee. I had to think of them._

_And I'd made a promise not to do anything stupid or reckless. For all those reasons, I was still breathing._

_Remembering that promise, I felt a twinge of guilt, but what I was doing right now didn't really count. It wasn't like I was taking a blade to my wrists._

_Jess's eyes were round, her mouth hung open. Her question about suicide had been rhetorical, I realized too late._

_"Go eat," I encouraged her, waving toward the fast food. I didn't like the way she looked at me. "I'll catch up in a minute."_

_I turned away from her, back to the men who were watching us with amused, curious eyes._

_"Bella, stop this right now!"_

_My muscles locked into place, froze me where I stood. Because it wasn't Jessica's voice that rebuked me now. It was a furious voice, a familiar voice, a beautiful voice—soft like velvet even though it was irate._

_It was his voice—I was exceptionally careful not to think his name—and I was surprised that the sound of it did not knock me to my knees, did not curl me onto the pavement in a torture of loss. But there was no pain, none at all._

_In the instant that I heard his voice, everything was very clear. Like my head had suddenly surfaced out of some dark pool. I was more aware of everything—sight,_ _sound, the feel of the cold air that I hadn't noticed was blowing sharply against my face, the smells coming from the open bar door._

_I looked around myself in shock._

_"Go back to Jessica," the lovely voice ordered, still angry. "You promised—nothing stupid."_

_I was alone. Jessica stood a few feet from me, staring at me with frightened eyes. Against the wall, the strangers watched, confused, wondering what I was doing, standing_ _there motionless in the middle of the street._

_I shook my head, trying to understand. I knew he wasn't there, and yet, he felt improbably close, close for the first time since . . . since the end. The anger in his voice was_ _concern, the same anger that was once very familiar—something I hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime._

_"Keep your promise." The voice was slipping away, as if the volume was being turned down on a radio._

_I began to suspect that I was having some kind of hallucination. Triggered, no doubt, by the memory—the deja vu, the strange familiarity of the situation._

_I ran through the possibilities quickly in my head._

_Option one: I was crazy. That was the layman's term for people who heard voices in their heads._

_Possible._

_Option two: My subconscious mind was giving me what it thought I wanted. This was wish fulfillment—a momentary relief from pain by embracing the incorrect idea that he cared whether I Jived or died. Projecting what he would have said if A) he were here, and B) he would be in any way bothered by something bad happening to me._

_Probable._

_I could see no option three, so I hoped it was the second option and this was just my subconscious running amuck, rather than something I would need to be hospitalized for._

_My reaction was hardly sane, though—I was grateful. The sound of his voice was something that I'd feared I was losing, and so, more than anything else, I felt overwhelming gratitude that my unconscious mind had held onto that sound better than my conscious one had._

_I was not allowed to think of him. That was something I tried to be very strict about. Of course I slipped; I was only human. But I was getting better, and so the pain was_ _something I could avoid for days at a time now. The tradeoff was the never-ending numbness. Between pain and nothing, I'd chosen nothing._

_I waited for the pain now. I was not numb—my senses felt unusually intense after so many months of the haze—but the normal pain held off. The only ache was the disappointment that his voice was fading._

_There was a second of choice._

_The wise thing would be to run away from this potentially destructive—and certainly mentally unstable—development. It would be stupid to encourage hallucinations._

_But his voice was fading._

_I took another step forward, testing._

_"Bella, turn around," he growled._

_I sighed in relief. The anger was what I wanted to hear—false, fabricated evidence that he cared, a dubious gift from my subconscious._

_Very few seconds had passed while I sorted this all out._

_My little audience watched, curious. It probably looked like I was just dithering over whether or not I was going to approach them. How could they guess that I was standing_ _there enjoying an unexpected moment of insanity?_

_"Hi," one of the men called, his tone both confident and a bit sarcastic. He was fair-skinned and fair-haired, and he stood with the assurance of someone who thought_ _of himself as quite good-looking. I couldn't tell whether he was or not. I was prejudiced._

_The voice in my head answered with an exquisite snarl. I smiled, and the confident man seemed to take that as encouragement._

_"Can I help you with something? You look lost." He grinned and winked._

_I stepped carefully over the gutter, running with water that was black in the darkness._

_"No. I'm not lost."_

_Now that I was closer—and my eyes felt oddly in focus—I analyzed the short, dark man's face. It was not familiar in any way. I suffered a curious sensation of disappointment that this was not the terrible man who had tried to hurt me almost a year ago._

_The voice in my head was quiet now._

_The short man noticed my stare. "Can I buy you a drink?" he offered, nervous, seeming flattered that I'd singled him out to stare at._

_"I'm too young," I answered automatically._

_He was baffled—wondering why I had approached them. I felt compelled to explain._

_"From across the street, you looked like someone I knew. Sorry, my mistake."_

_The threat that had pulled me across the street had evaporated. These were not the dangerous men I remembered. They were probably nice guys. Safe. I lost interest._

_"That's okay," the confident blonde said. "Stay and hang out with us."_

_"Thanks, but I can't." Jessica was hesitating in the middle of the street, her eyes wide with outrage and betrayal._

_"Oh, just a few minutes."_

_I shook my head, and turned to rejoin Jessica._

_"Let's go eat," I suggested, barely glancing at her._

_Though I appeared to be, for the moment, freed of the zombie abstraction, I was just as distant. My mind was preoccupied. The safe, numb deadness did not come back, and I got more anxious with every minute that passed without its return._

_"What were you thinking?" Jessica snapped. "You don't know them—they could have been psychopaths!"_

_I shrugged, wishing she would let it go. "I just thought I knew the one guy."_

_"You are so odd, Bella Swan. I feel like I don't know who you are."_

_"Sorry." I didn't know what else to say to that._

_We walked to McDonald's in silence. I'd bet that she was wishing we'd taken her car instead of walking the short distance from the theater, so that she could use the drive-through. She was just as anxious now for this evening to be over as I had been from the beginning._

_I tried to start a conversation a few times while we ate, but Jessica was not cooperative. I must have really offended her._

_When we go back in the car, she tuned the stereo back to her favorite station and turned the volume too loud to allow easy conversation._

_I didn't have to struggle as hard as usual to ignore the music. Even though my mind, for once, was not carefully numb and empty, I had too much to think about to hear the lyrics._

_I waited for the numbness to return, or the pain. Because the pain must be coming. I'd broken my personal rules. Instead of shying away from the memories, I'd walked forward and greeted them. I'd heard his voice, so clearly, in my head. That was going to cost me, I was sure of it. Especially if I couldn't reclaim the haze to protect myself. I felt too alert, and that frightened me._

_But relief was still the strongest emotion in my body—relief that came from the very core of my being._

_As much as I struggled not to think of him, I did not struggle to forget. I worried—late in the night, when the exhaustion of sleep deprivation broke down my defenses—that it was all slipping away. That my mind was a sieve, and I would someday not be able to remember the precise color of his eyes, the feel of his cool skin, or the texture_ _of his voice. I could not think of them, but I must remember them._

_Because there was just one thing that I had to believe to be able to live—I had to know that he existed. That was all. Everything else I could endure. So long as he existed._

_That's why I was more trapped in Forks than I ever had been before, why I'd fought with Charlie when he suggested a change. Honestly, it shouldn't matter; no one was ever coming back here._

_But if I were to go to Jacksonville, or anywhere else bright and unfamiliar, how could I be sure he was real? In a place where I could never imagine him, the conviction_ _might fade . . . and that I could not live through._

_Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk._

_I was surprised when Jessica stopped the car in front of my house. The ride had not taken long, but, short as it seemed, I wouldn't have thought that Jessica could go that long without speaking._

_"Thanks for going out with me, Jess," I said as I opened my door. "That was...fun.' I hoped that fan was the appropriate word._

_"Sure," she muttered._

_"I'm sorry about . . . after the movie."_

_"Whatever, Bella." She glared out the windshield instead of looking at me. She seemed to be growing angrier rather than getting over it._

_"See you Monday?"_

_"Yeah. Bye."_

_I gave up and shut the door. She drove away, still without looking at me._

_I'd forgotten her by the time I was inside._

_Charlie was waiting for me in the middle of the hall, his arms folded tight over his chest with his hands balled into fists._

_"Hey, Dad," I said absentmindedly as I ducked around Charlie, heading for the stairs. I'd been thinking about_ _him_ _for too long, and I wanted to be upstairs before it caught up with me._

_"Where have you been?" Charlie demanded._

_I looked at my dad, surprised. "I went to a movie in Port Angeles with Jessica. Like I told you this morning."_

_"Humph," he grunted._

_"Is that okay?"_

_He studied my face, his eves widening as if he saw something unexpected. "Yeah, that's fine. Did you have fun?"_

_"Sure," I said. "We watched zombies eat people. It was great."_

_His eyes narrowed._

_"'Night, Dad."_

_He let me pass. I hurried to my room._

_I lay in my bed a few minutes later, resigned as the pain finally made its appearance._

_It was a crippling thing, this sensation that a huge hole had been punched through my chest, excising my most vital organs and leaving ragged, unhealed gashes around the edges that continued to throb and bleed despite the passage of time. Rationally, I knew my lungs must still be intact, yet I gasped for air and my head spun like my efforts yielded me nothing. My heart must have been beating, too, but I couldn't hear the sound of my pulse in my ears; my hands felt blue with cold. I curled inward, hugging my ribs to hold myself together. I scrambled for my numbness, my denial, but it evaded me._

_And yet, I found I could survive. I was alert, I felt the pain—the aching loss that radiated out from my chest, sending wracking waves of hurt through my limbs and head—but it was manageable. I could live through it. It didn't feel like the pain had weakened over time, rather that I'd grown strong enough to bear it._

_Whatever it was that had happened tonight—and whether it was the zombies, the adrenaline, or the hallucinations that were responsible—it had woken me up._

_For the first time in a long time, I didn't know what to expect in the morning._

The next morning when I woke up, screaming, I could still hear Jessica's music in my ears. The song that I didn't listen, but somehow my brain stored it in. _Who Knew_ by _Pink_. The pain was worse than ever, but I managed to get it through the school day.

That day, the bikes, Jacob and being _reckless and stupid_ came on. Everything changed.

The Monday that followed the faithful movie night with Mike and Jacob was brutal.

Our History teacher decided to have a 'fun' week as he put it.

"Guess what are we going to do this week? That will result in a nice essay on Friday."

Everyone started guessing, of course, we thought of the World Wars, not _mythical creatures_.

I must have let out the strangled groan that was fighting to get out, because Angela turned to look at me concerned. I shook my head at her.

"We'll see a few pictures of those creatures and then you have to choose one. There will be four of them," he said.

On the projector came on a big picture of a witch and the teacher started rambling about witches and magic. Then came on a werewolf, then the Minotaur and I braced myself for the next one, but the pain still erupted within me.

"And yes, vampires! People love them for being mysterious and dark. I want you to know, those who will choose this subject, I want something different than what everyone knows and sees in movies!" he rambled a bit about them. I was half present, the pain kept me numb, I struggled to breath.

"Miss Swan." He startled me when he called my name.

"Yes?" I whispered.

"What will you choose?"

I didn't think, if I had thought, I wouldn't have said it. "Vampires." The word sounded strange on my tongue.

Wednesday, at lunch, Mike asked, "So have you start working on the History essay?"

I shook my head, I had tried to start writing but the pain was coming in hard waves and I couldn't breathe so I had stopped.

"I did," Angela said. She had chosen witches. Everyone had started writing them.

"It's not too late to tell the teacher you want to write about something else. It's hard to write about vampires," Eric reasoned. He had no idea how hard it was.

"Yes, if you don't like vampires you can change it," Mike said, as well.

"I _love_ vampires," I blurred out, then I realized what I said, but I didn't have time to welcome the pain.

"Yeah, vamps aren't for girls," Tyler said from behind me. I turned to him to tell him that I could write about whatever I liked, but I saw an empty table, the table they had stayed at lunch last year. I opened my mouth and a strange sound came out. I turned my head to collect myself and then I saw the table I had sat with _him_ , just the two of us. I hugged my torso carefully, took my bag awkwardly and rushed out of the cafeteria. I ran to my truck and stayed there for a few minutes, then I drove home. Charlie will give me hard time for ditching, but I couldn't be there.

When I got home, I went to my room and started writing the essay. It was done in three hours. I was sprawled on the floor with sheets of paper around me, writing furiously. I was laughing and crying at the same time, I had just imagined how would Alice react if she wouldn't be able to see herself in a mirror. That's how Charlie found me.

"Bells?"

"Hey," I whispered trying to stop the waves of hysteria that were coming fast.

"Homework?" he asked, looking concerned.

"History essay."

"Oh, you're learning about the wars this year, right?"

"This is…'fun week', I'm writing about vam-vampir-vampires," I managed to say. By now the tears were falling freely.

"Oh, how horrible! Such cold creatures. I'll go get some pizza." He turned to leave.

You're so right…they are _cold_ creatures, in more ways than one.

Friday I gave in the essay.

On Monday, the teacher stopped me after class.

"Miss Swan, I really like the way you see vampires. It never occurred to me that they may like fashion and they will be devastated if they won't see themselves in the mirror and how if they were really real and the sun will burn them and they got out in the daylight, there would be little heaps of ashes on the street and-" I let him ramble, stupefied. Had I really written that there? I had thought of those, but I wrote them, too and he liked it!

"I'd like to keep your essay for-"

"NO!" I screamed. "I mean, no, I'd like to keep it. It's the only A+ I got in History," I told him slowly.

"Very well. Amazing job, Miss Swan. I haven't read such a great essay since Mr. Cullen's essay about the wars that U.S.A. had been in," he told me, not realizing what that name did to me. I took my essay and left his class.

**It seems random, now that I read it again, it sums up how she felt those months.**


End file.
